


Vanilla Cake

by Steangine



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Incest, M/M, the request was domestic DaNero, the title makes no sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 20:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steangine/pseuds/Steangine
Summary: “Shut up!” Nero poked his forehead. “Shouldn’t we tell Vergil?”Of secrets, lizards and vanilla cakes.[Domestic DaNero, requested on Twitter]





	Vanilla Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic DaNero requested on Twitter by PlayingChello.

The van was almost sacred to Nico. It wasn’t just the vehicle which burst through the darkest ravines of the Qliphoth, the moving office of the second branch of Devil May Cry, and the emergency ride for Nero. The van was _her_ place, the enclosed space where she molded the models from his mind into reality, the laboratory which gave birth to many weapons that proved useful to Nero, but also to the household, since the interest of many demon hunters towards those jewels was growing day by day – she would be forever thankful to Lady for spreading the voice.

That was the main reason Nero was allowed to put his hands on the engine whenever the van _was sick_ , as Nico said, but never allowed to use it if she wasn’t there. This didn’t apply to Dante. Nico was so fond of him, way over the level of a normal fangirl, that if Dante asked her to give him all her weapons for free, she would even create some more just to please him – of course, Dante was a lazy asshole who could barely hold his life together, but at the same time was one of the most honorable men Nero had ever met (the other being Credo), and would never take advantage of Nico or anyone else. Lending him the van for a mission was the only thing he asked her and was also willing to share part of the reward. Nico agreed right after Dante started with a “I need a favor from you–”, barely listening to the rest.

So, Nero’s regret of riding Dante’s dick on the sofa of the van was mitigated by the desire of a childish revenge towards her friend who entrusted her precious van to the reckless old man and not to him.

“Hey, Dante…” As Nero stopped moving, the veil of pleasure blurring Dante’s eyes snapped away, uncovering a sharp perplexed glance. “…I was wondering–”

“Right now?” Dante chuckled. “Maybe I should take the lead, if you still can focus on something else.”

“Shut up!” Nero poked his forehead. “Shouldn’t we tell Vergil?”

Having a very bad timing to blurt out things probably run in the veins of the heirs of Sparda, because that definitely wasn’t the right moment for Dante to hear his brother’s name and it showed on his face.

“Oh wow, Nero, this hurt more than your bitch-slap.” He joked, but a slight bitter note still escaped from his voice, and Nero noticed it.

“Listen, Dante, I didn’t mean–”

Dante was older than him, but damn, he was still faster, and Nero knew what he was about to do but couldn’t stop him. He saw the van rotating around him and, when everything stopped, Dante was pinning him down on the sofa, the dick still buried inside Nero.

“I know what you meant.”

His kind chuckle was that of an adult who understood the whims of a child, thinking they were cute. Nero found that expression annoying and slapped his right hand on Dante’s face.

“Oh, come on, Nero!” Dante laughed against his palm before kissing it. “You are the one who started talking about Vergil, take responsibility.”

“You don’t even know what I wanted to say!”

Dante placed both hands on his hips and slightly raised them, thrusting once inside his body from a different angle. The pleasure hit Nero stronger than before, and he arched his back to push himself more against his dick.

“Oh, this is the spot, huh?” Dante didn’t move anymore, gaining a frustrated glare from Nero. “I don’t think this is the right time to tell him about us.”

“You’re not exactly the king of the right timing for telling things.”

“Said the one who started talking about Vergil with my dick up his ass.” Dante underlined the last words entering again Nero’s body, but slowly. He didn’t get his eyes off his glare watered by pleasure, nor lose a single flinch of Nero’s eyelids, and the trembles of his lips in the attempt of resisting the urge of moaning and snapping the demand of going faster. “By the way, you don’t call him dad.”

“Wha–the hell is with that?” Silence. “It’s strange.”

“Yes, it is.” Dante imagined it wasn’t that easy realizing you had a father and also a relationship with his brother, that would make your partner also your uncle. But Nero coped with the second part pretty fast. “I mean, I’m already your _daddy_ , you could get confused.”

This time, Nero threw his whole punch at him, hitting his head. Dante laughed.

“It happened only once!”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind making it twice.”

Dante bent down and suffocated Nero’s throwback thrusting inside him at full strength. Nero screamed of pleasure into his arms.

***

Dante standing in front of a supermarket shelf was one of the most unusual views Nero had ever witnessed, and he hunted demons for a living. It gave the same vibes of a designer who adjusted a whole room but forgot in full view one of his instruments: not totally unexpected, but surely out of place.

However, the fact that Dante clearly didn’t belong to that cozy and familiar environment wasn’t the reason some ladies purposely pretended to check on some cake ingredients casually near him. They, in fact, caught the chance to check his plump ass, and Nero noticed because he was checking it as well. Nero didn’t consider himself the jealous type, but he purposely pretended to side Dante to help him finding the items on the list and caught the chance to shoo the ladies away with a self-explanatory disappointed glare.

“What’s the difference between this yeast…” Dante almost shoved a package under Nero’s nose. “…and this one?”

Nero glanced at the boxes. “The label?” He sounded impatient. “Come on, Dante! These ingredients are all the same! It doesn’t matter!”

Since when he was a kid, Nero hated going shopping, and nor Kyrie, nor Dante could help him out of his aversion. His resistance record was of 5 minutes before losing his patience and grumbling like a child. He didn’t understand how getting stuff, especially food which was always the same in the exact same places, could take so much time.

“Just make up your mind, would you?” Nero crossed his arms and looked away. Of course, he acted bratty only with Dante, while with Kyrie he tried his best to conceal his true feelings, failing miserably, and endured the pain.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come with me.” Dante chuckled. “You are the one who tagged along.”

Nero knew Dante was right, so had no means to reply. He was happy when Dante surprised them all with his unexpected arrival in Fortuna; less happy when he declared he needed Kyrie and not him; even less happy when Dante did ask Kyrie to go with him and not to Nero. For Nero’s luck, Kyrie was too busy to leave the house. However, the bug of doubt munched through Nero’s head to his brain and made its nest there, making him wonder what Kyrie could possibly do that he couldn’t. Nero excluded some work-related stuff, because Dante wouldn’t involve other people even if his life was at stake – and the Urizen incident was the most evident proof of it. But, if it wasn’t for work, then what could it be?

“So, how did Kyrie manage to convince you doing groceries for her?”

Nero took the longer road to get answers, without showing that he longed them.

“This is for me.”

“What?”

“She agreed to show me how to bake a cake. I’m buying the ingredients.”

“What?” Nero repeated, hoping he misheard. “You? Baking a cake?” Now _that_ was more bizarre than Dante in a supermarket.

“Hey, what’s with that look? I can cook! But–” Dante stopped Nero’s reply as he read the skepticism on his face. “–I order pizza because a very famous devil hunter like me is always busy. And I like it. Double win, don’t you think?”

“For your bank account it’s a double loss.” Nero pretended to be interested in some colorful sugar sprinkles, but his silence lasted two seconds. “It must be important if you decided to bake a cake out of the blue. Is it your birthday?” Now that he mentioned it, Dante had never told him when his birthday was, as Nero had never told when his was as well.

“I just wanted to bake a cake for my big brother.”

“Vergil?”

Nero didn’t want his voice to come out so surprised that it sounded fake, but couldn’t control himself, and Dante stopped rummaging through the boxes to look at him.

“To my knowledge, I only have one brother. So, yes, Vergil.”

“I know that! I was just surprised, that’s all…” Nero mocked him with a chuckle. “And I thought you came here for work. Slacking off as usual, huh? Very famous devil hunter.”

Dante smiled at his provocation. “If you wanted to know, you could’ve just asked, kid. This is a secret only to Vergil.”

“I didn’t want to know!” Nero snapped, confirming Dante’s insinuation. One second later, he was calmer. “Is this for his birthday? Which… would be yours too, you know? Being twins and such…” He tried to sound natural, but the flow came out in unsure chunks, until his voice faded into silence. “Is it your birthday, Dante?” He finally gave up and asked him.

“No, it’s not our birthday. But we used to eat this cake often when we were kids.” Dante didn’t hear any reply but felt Nero’s eyes on him. With a low sigh, he turned to him. “Is it so strange I want to be kind to my brother? For once.” He added. “He’s spent quite some time wandering in Hell, so he has much to catch up with and stuff to cope with… and I wanted to eat something which isn’t a pizza, for once.” Dante shook a box in front of Nero. “I’ll take this one. I like the photo on the box.”

Nero was sure cakes were the last thing Vergil wanted to catch up with, but somehow could relate to what Dante was trying to do. Dante wasn’t showing how much he cared about it, by making it sound like he was just killing time and happened to arrive in Fortuna just because he craved something sweet. Of course, he was lying, and Nero surely was a sissy in the empathy department but wasn’t that hopeless not to understand that.

“Kyrie usually buys this one.” He took one of the boxes Dante had ignored since the beginning and threw it in the cart before stretching his neck to look at the list. “What’s next?”

“Let’s see… softener. Wait, softener?”

“…so she did make you do some errands for her after all.”

***

Dante could cook. But since Nero once set the kitchen on fire trying to prepare a milkshake (Nico was still trying to uncover the physics behind the unsettling event), just watching Dante doing something as simple as breaking the eggs without cracking them in his hands was amazing to him. Due to his poor skills, Nero was relegated to the role of helper’s helper, which meant he gave to Kyrie the clean kitchen tools and received from her the dirty ones he had to wash. He didn’t have much more to do, except enjoying the view of Kyrie gently scolding Dante whenever he messed up with something.

“No.” Kyrie chuckled softly once again, putting her thin hand on Dante’s thick forearm. “Not like that, Dante. Gentler. Like that.” Their coordination, him lending the tools and her taking them, was so natural and smooth that Nero thought they tried those moves while he wasn’t looking. Kyrie showed him how to blend the mixture, and Dante tried again. “Oh, like that. Yes!” Kyrie chirped delighted clapping her hands once. “You’re good at this!”

“You’re good at teaching.”

Nero couldn’t stop thinking how Dante looked like a very clumsy father spending some time with her daughter. He forgot about the dishes and stared at them, the hand holding the sponge lazily hanging from the sink border. Nero caught a movement behind him, and just moved the hand away before Nico could slap on it.

“Hey lizard, nice couple, ain’t they?”

“Shut up, Nico.”

“I’d tell you to eat your tongue, but you’d probably grow that back as well.” She poked his shoulder. “So, what’s up your butt today?”

Nero looked at her, and his eyes fell on the unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. “Don’t smoke in here.”

“I know, do you see me smoking? I can rent you my glasses.”

“Should I remind you how much you owe me for the documents? And your room here ain’t paying itself.”

“Why do you always make it about the money?”

“Look who’s talking!”

They tried to keep it low, but Kyrie turned her head. “Are you two arguing again?” Her tone of voice was calm, but both of them shut up immediately and shook their heads as their voices overlap in a single “No.”

Then, Nico added. “Julio made Kyle cry and I cannot calm him. Could you please come?” She was gentle when speaking with Kyrie, almost looking like a totally different person.

Kyrie nodded and untied her apron. “Sorry Dante, I–”

“No need to excuse yourself. I’m the outsider here.” He pointed at Nero. “I’ll keep an eye on the other kid.”

Nero flinched, not because of Dante’s totally expected remark, but because Kyrie laughed, and Nico made a grimace at him. “Come on.” Nico muttered at his ear. “You have the chance to do the lovey dovey stuff now. No sex on the counter though.” She shrugged. “Oh well, at least clean it after the action.”

“Hey, you–” Nico cackled and followed Kyrie outside the kitchen. Nero shook his head. “Whatever…” He got closer to Dante. “How is it going?”

“Fine, I guess.” Dante was stirring the mixture trying to emulate what Kyrie showed him.

“Kyrie said to be gentler.”

“I heard her. And I’m doing it.”

Nero frowned. “I wouldn’t call that being gentler.”

He had barely finished that Dante pushed the whisk into his left hand. Nero raised his eyes, a savage “Hey!” ready to escape his mouth, but the voice died against Dante’s lips. He gave him a quick smack on the lips which ended with a subtle smirk. “Then show me how to be _gentler_.” His voice was low and filled with sin. The 180° turn from the gentle uncle who acted like a doting parent to the lustful uncle who was probably thinking that Nero’s pants would suit the floor more than his legs made Nero’s blood boil so fast that the rush to his head shut his brain down for a moment.

In that moment, Nero didn’t know anymore there were Kyrie, Nico and the children in a nearby room. His brain deemed that piece of information of little importance, compared to Dante wearing a frilly pink apron and ready to shove his mixture-dirtied fingers into his trousers.

Or that was what Nero wanted to read on his face, apparently, because Dante pushed the bowl towards him. “Gentler.” He repeated with a small nod.

Dante looked too amused, and Nero was sure that all the not-so-pure thoughts that floated his brain showed on his face as well. He grunted. “Yeah, gentler.”

The cake was in the oven, the surface getting darker and darker as it bloated. The cozy warm light radiating from the glass reached them in gentle waves of heat. Nero was bored, sitting on the floor near Dante as both looked at the miracle of patisserie coming to life in a blooming of vanilla scent that spread in the whole house.

“When Kyrie recommended not to forget the cake into the oven, I’m quite sure she didn’t mean staring at it without blinking.”

Kyrie and Nico left with the kids, as the promise of a walk on the seaside seemed to be the only thing that could stop Kyle’s tears. Nor Julio nor Carlo could explain what happened, he just started crying while playing together with Julio.

So, in that not-so-big house, only Nero, Dante and the cake were left. Instead of the cheerful cries of the children, and the hardly reassuring noises coming from Nico’s lab (the van), there was the constant buzzing of the old oven.

Dante was leaning against the wall, his legs crossed and both hands resting on his lap. His stance was relaxed, his face showed a calm Nero saw on him only when, sometimes, he woke up during the night and glanced at him sleeping into his arms. Such serenity brushed a bit as well on Nero, who was still restless, changing the position of his legs, and crossing and uncrossing his arms regularly, but moved slowly and not in nervous jolts.

“We used to sit in front of the oven and wait for the cake to be ready. Me and Vergil.” Dante shrugged a bit. “Especially during winter, or when it rained. When it was sunny, I never wanted to get back home, if it wasn’t a good reason.”

That wasn’t the comeback Nero was waiting for. However, he went along with that.

“What good reason could have been?”

“Food. Mom always forgot to tell me there were vegetables.”

A smile made its way on Nero’s face. “Credo did the same with me. And I got angry.”

“Me too. But I couldn’t pout at my mother for more than ten seconds. Vergil counted them and mocked me for it when we argued.”

“He hasn’t really grown up since then, has he?”

“Not at all. I’m the responsible brother, after all.”

“And that says a lot.”

Dante pushed against Nero’s shoulder with his forearm, taking a chuckle from him.

“It was a pain waiting for it to be ready. I always hoped mom gave us a slice even if it was still warm.”

“Let me guess, she never did.”

“Not once.” Dante straightened the legs in front of him. “I always dragged Vergil to look at the cake baking. He complained, but never left until it was ready.”

Among the casual conversation thrown there with Dante’s characteristic carefree attitude, Nero grasped something more that made him listen in silence. His voice was somehow softer, and it showed through his face as well: instead of the cocky, confident grin, his lips were curved in a soft smile. Dante was happy.

Nero tried to imagine two little boys (who looked like him when he was a child) chilling on the floor and waiting together. He couldn’t add much more to the picture, because all he knew about Dante and Vergil came from what he could observe from their daily interactions. Were they like that even as children? Or had the events in their lives twisted their relationship? Nero didn’t know, and he had never asked. There was a black wall behind Dante, filled with people and events stranger to him. Nero put here and there some faces and names: Lady, Trish, Morrison, Patty, Nell, Vergil and their mother, Sparda… but there still was a whole empty space that shaped Dante, and Nero had no sight of. However, that tiny piece of memory perfectly fitted, and Nero wanted to treasure it. Dante disclosed a tiny bit of that himself who wasn’t the legendary devil hunter and let Nero being part of the human Dante, sharing with him that cozy moment both in words and actions. That melted Nero’s soul more than thousands of his kisses could do.

Of course, Nero didn’t show any of it. He wore his best bratty grin instead. “Hah. This sounds like Vergil.”

“What?”

“Complaining.”

Dante laughed. “You got that right!” He raised the right hand and aimed for Nero’s hair, but he bended aside to avoid the ruffle. “You should speak with Vergil more. He’s not that bad, you know?”

“The other day I tried, and he said I fight like you.”

“See?”

“Then explained he meant…” Nero stopped for a handful of seconds, his expression highly concentrated to recall the exact words. When he had all of them, he prepared his voice with a cough. “…leaping around and swirling my sword like a clown may be considered a tacky and cheap show, but it’s not fighting.” Silence. “Honk honk.”

Dante glanced at him in confusion. “Wait, the honk honk thing–”

“He kept his face straight while saying it. He didn’t even blink.”

The burst of laughter almost scared Nero but did a good job in surprising him. Dante held his stomach, almost rolling on the floor.

“That asshole!” He exclaimed. “Goddammit, he isn’t so funny around me!”

“That wasn’t funny! I didn’t know what to reply and he left without saying anything else.”

Dante was still fighting to repress the giggles shaking his whole body. “Honk honk… what an idiot. He really needs to catch up.”

“I thought you would be mad at the clown thing.”

“One of the first things he told me when we arrived in Hell, was that I honed my clown-fighting skills. No surprise here.” This time, Dante was fast enough to sink his fingers into Nero’s short hair and ruffle them with the lovingly care only a demon was capable of.

“Hey! Are you trying to tear my scalp away?!”

Dante chuckled. “I thought you were tougher than this.” Then, he glanced at the small timer on the table, and back at Nero. The devilish shade covering his eyes didn’t escape Nero’s attention: in less than an instant, the endearing atmosphere surrounding them like a cozy blanket sank in the deep pits of lust, where Nero wouldn’t mind drown together with Dante.

Despite knowing his old appearance didn’t mean a thing in terms of physical capabilities, Nero still managed to be astonished at how Dante could be fast and strong enough to beat him to the punch: he wrapped the arms around his waist and sit him on the table. Nero didn’t even really try to put a fight.

“We will never finish before the cake’s ready.” He pointed out welcoming Dante kneeling between his legs. Nero heard the sound of his trousers zip running down.

“The timer will remind us to take a break.”

“Sure…” Nero raised an eyebrow. “By the way, about Vergil–”

“You really do enjoy talking about my brother while we are at it, don’t you?”

“We’re not still at it. And I just wanted to say that…” Nero scratched his head. “Well, maybe we could wait a bit before telling him. It’s better giving him some time to get used again to the human world.”

Dante mocked him. “That’s a lot of consideration from someone who beat the shit out of him right after he came back.”

Nero was about to talk back, but Dante chomped on his limp dick still hidden in his underwear, and he bit his lower lip. He really couldn’t find any good reason to stop him.

***

That cake didn’t really taste like the one their mother used to bake, but it was quite close. Or maybe Vergil had spent so much time in Hell that his physical memories became distorted for good. Or he was just biased towards Dante’s cooking skills.

Kyrie was a good person, naïve and easy to trick, and she couldn’t lie even if she tried; that was more or less the idea Vergil had of her, but he still didn’t know where to put her in his personal scale of grade of relationship with people. Vergil uncovered her attempt to pretend that it was she, indeed, who baked the cake and wanted to spend some more time with Nero and his family without worrying about demons. He didn’t question that lie through words, but it was clear he didn’t believe her.

Kyrie sat next to him on one of the chairs in the garage, settled as a small dining room for the time being. The kids were playing outside, chasing both Dante and Nero with the assistance of Nico, who kept targeting Nero and avoid Dante. Last time Vergil was there, he came with less friendly intentions and ripped Nero’s arm, leaving him dying in his own blood. The lovable scene unfolding in front of his eyes made it seem like it was just a long bad dream, and none of the events in Redgrave City ever happened.

“I didn’t think Dante had so much patience with kids.” Kyrie commented. “He doesn’t look the type.”

Vergil nodded. He agreed, and believed his brother was forcing himself to act like a considerate adult who cared about children. However, that cold thought wasn’t as sharp as it sounded into his head when it left his lips.

“He’s probably pretending.”

May it be the cheerful innocent laughs, or the warm sun he still had to get used to, or the reassuring presence of Kyrie, which reminded him much of his mother, or again, the cheerful attitude of his brother, Vergil didn’t know, but he felt almost relaxed as he hadn’t been for too many years.

“He’s very good at it, then.”

Vergil looked at her. “Tell me something, Kyrie.”

He called her name to have her complete attention, and he succeeded. Kyrie looked at him with a hint of worry in her eyes, surely expecting something more serious than commenting on his brother being or not truly involved in playing with the children.

“I know you are aware of what’s going on between Dante and Nero.”

Kyrie felt her heart skipping a bit and she failed to conceal it under a surprised mask. She was surprised, of course, but it wasn’t the genuine surprise of who didn’t know what was going on; she was nervous and instinctively straightened her back, assuming a much more rigid posture.

“Uhm, what do you exactly mean by that?” She tried to test the waters and see to what extents Vergil noticed how the relationship between Nero and Dante wasn’t exactly the common one between a nephew and his uncle.

Vergil slightly closed his eyes. Kyrie imagined he was choosing the words carefully. In that, he was the opposite of Nero, who blurted out whatever passed through his mind without using any filter between his brain and his mouth.

“I’m quite certain their relationship is deeper than the ones usually nurtured in human families.” He took a short pause. “But as much as this doesn’t bother me, since they’re both adults and fully capable of making their own choices, even if maybe less capable of taking their own responsibilities…” Kyrie had to resist the urge to chuckle at the last remark. “…what truly bugs me…”

Vergil looked outside again. In the severe line of his profile, Kyrie read a hint of concern.

“…is that I have no idea why they keep pretending nothing is happening between them. Do they truly believe I am that dense?”

Those words had to sound uninterested, but it wasn’t that difficult spotting the bitterness hid in them. Kyrie snorted from her nose and right after faked a cough; if Vergil and Nero were even the slightest similar, she didn’t want to add more salt to his spiritual injuries.

“I’m certain they don’t think low of you and are just waiting for the right moment.” Kyrie slightly tilted her head as Vergil managed to conceal his emotions once again, and she couldn’t read him anymore. “Do you want another slice of cake?”

“…if we must finish it. It’s not good wasting food.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine Vergil as an old man inside who sits on a chair and silently judge people while eating cake.  
>   
> I'm now on Twitter (@steangine)


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